All Palms Are Not Trees

When my dear friend, Linda, was diagnosed with cancer, she didn't me until close to the end.

I recall a few times when she had symptoms she would ask me about. What would I suggest about a black spot in her vision, she asked. I thought she meant she had a floater.

What were the bumps in her neck? I thought she had swollen glands because of a throat infection. Why was she coughing all the time? Asthma, I suggested.

Apparently it was all part of her cancer. I figured that out later. There were other things, too. If I had only known!

She expressed her distress that I had moved five hundred miles away, and I missed her sorely. It would have been so much better had I stayed. Seeing her in person, I would have known sooner. She wouldn't have been able to hide it from me. It would have been obvious.

As it was, I had traveled down to visit her. We sat around the table after dinner when she asked me to read her palm. I hadn't done that for years, and begged off.

But, her husband jumped in and insisted. In fact, he demanded I read his palm first. I was quite surprised at Bob's insistence and I felt a little uncomfortable. I thought those "talents" had gone to rest.

Just for fun, I had taken up palm reading as a teen when I found a book on the subject that had belonged to my grandmother, "How to Tell Fortunes".

It had other methods besides palm reading in it. But, that was what resonated with me. I did it for fun until the readings started to be more seriously accurate.

"Oh, your palm reveals you have eight marriages!" I laughed, but the man across from me stared with mouth open. "How did you know that? No one knows about that!" But, when I accurately predicted the demise of someone, I refused to do any more fortune telling. Certain signs suggest the worst, and I didn't want to see such things.

By the time Linda and Bob were pressing me to read their palms, I had no qualms to keep me from playing along with them.

I must admit, however, that I stuck to the original protocol of observations I had learned, shapes of fingers and hand, how the mounds are formed and the measurement of lines as indicators for translation.

Bob stuck his hand in front of me. I asked to see both, as that was how I learned. One hand for your destiny and the other to see if you live your fate, or change it. I knew Bob had already been married before so I wasn't surprised to see two marriage lines, but I was curious to see the third marriage indicated.

I remembered that Linda only had one marriage line. So, I casually said, "After Linda dies, you will marry again." And to make a joke, I added, "Sorry about that Linda!"

But no one laughed. In fact Bob got an odd look on his face, and frowned at Linda. "What did you tell her?"

Her face was pale and eyes wide open, "Look at mine, tell me what mine says. Maybe it changed!" By this time I was really uncomfortable and tried to beg off from further prognostications.

Then little Andrea, their daughter, who had been eavesdropping on us all along came to me with hand extended. I took hold and kissed her palm. "It says everybody loves you and you will be rich and pretty when you grow up." But, she wasn't buying it. I hadn't actually perused her palm and she stuck it in my face. Then it was my turn to have wide eyes and be pale. There it was as clear as day.

She would face a very tragic episode in her life within a very short time. Of course, I told her no such thing.

But, once Linda sent her out to play, she and Bob plied me for what I saw. Why I didn't just make something up, I will never know.

When I learned from Grandma's book, it seemed the ethics of a respectable palm reader were ingrained in my mind as much as the meanings of the symbols. Integrity was my excuse. I could only hem and haw, with maybes and perhaps's and I'm not sure, but's.

It was pretty clear to me. But, Bob's next marriage and the tragedy in Andrea's future was to be the loss of my very dear friend.

It's odd how I totally blocked that memory until I read about it in my diary a few years after Linda died.

--------------

RIP

Linda Duran Watkins 

Nov 1949 - Nov 1982

Hitching a Ride

Two young raccoons came into my yard in the light of day while my significant other and I were gardening.

Because of a neighbor's dog who had recently been bitten, I cold-heartedly scooted them away with my broom sweeping back and forth in front of me as they approached.

I'm sure they lost their direction. A neighbor leaves cat food outside for them. They can go there for snacks.

One ran away immediately, the other needed a little more encouragement.

They scampered off across my driveway, beneath my car and off to the neighbors yard across the way.

Later, we left in separate cars to attend a wake. I led the way and Katsumi followed. In a couple of blocks, unbeknownst to me, my Honey watched in astonishment as one of the raccoons dropped onto the road from beneath my car and scampered off into the strawberry fields.

About a mile later, he heard a thump and looked in his rear view mirror and he realized the second raccoon had dropped from under his car and ran off to the raspberry fields.

Fortunately, I live near the edge of town and Mother Nature was there to welcome them.

I am totally shocked and wondering how they could have held on to whatever part of our cars they were located.

I feel so guilty for shooing them away from my yard1 Maybe we could have just gone into the house.

But, we were so sure we saw them continue off into the neighbors yard after I shooed them with the broom.

I have the strong desire to go searching the fields hoping to see large swaths of missing fruit for reassurance that they are okay.
 

Note:
The neighbor who was leaving food out for local critters has now moved to Oregon.

A Time to Live, a Time to Die

When it comes time to die,

be not like those whose hearts

are filled with the fear of death,

so when their time comes

they weep and pray

for a little more time

to live their lives

over again in a different way.

Sing your death song,

and die like a hero going home.

~ Chief Aupumut, Mohican. 1725

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Photo Art, by Elizabeth Munroz

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers is a "creative" non-fiction memoir.

The author begins his story as a young man about age 20 whose father and mother die of cancer 5 months apart. He's left to raise his 7 year old brother. He suggests that parts of his writing is fiction. Ah, well. I suppose any autobiography writer doesn't remember all the details and has to make up some parts.

Some people in my book reading group didn't like it. The first chapter is pretty graphic in descriptions of his caring for his mother in her last days. They would have preferred it to be a cleaned up version without what they considered the awful reality of his experience.

They also objected to use the F word through his descriptions of how he and his friends related as they enter into adulthood with one another.  In his immaturity, his saving grace is he is very careful to raise his little brother with high standards protecting him from growing up too soon. He takes special care in attending parent teacher meetings at school, for example, even though he worried that he might lose his brother due to people thinking him an inappropriate guardian because of his age.

Yet, of course they still related as brothers rather than a parental figure and child.

He doesn't have any opportunity to grieve or have closure, yet it's all expressed in his behavior throughout the book. Life has to be lived. His responsibilities come first. It's difficult for a young man who hasn't reached maturity.

It appears to me that the author is a bonafide manic-depressive with a little bit of paranoid tendencies. Either that, or he is in permanent panic mode because of his circumstances. Yet he copes and is successful enough to hold it together eventually, and in collaboration of friends, sets up his own business.

I really loved the book because the writer has an interesting prose style that goes against anything we've ever been taught is the standard way to write. I was fascinated by his style.

I also liked the book because a great part of it takes place right where I live, in the San Francisco bay area. I'm not sure readers in other parts of the country would relate to his descriptions of neighborhoods and travels in the region which  viscerally touch me.

Hope I didn't share too much.

Read what happens to Dave Eggers after he reaches maturity


You also might like to read chapter one in the NY Times.


Note:
My photos are San Francisco scenes. First is, Lombard Street. Second is the Dutch Windmill. Third is the Golden Gate Bridge.

Happiness

What ever happened to happily ever after? That was all hype, like Santa Claus, Leprechauns, Fairies, and all that other bunch of lies that were perpetrated upon us as kids. There ought to be a Law!!! Am I being cynical? You betcha! Well, with a little tongue in cheek, too.

Seriously... I think happiness is what we make it. As the Buddhists say, one of the first truths is that we all have suffering, none can escape it. I think once that sinks in, we can work from it, or around it or with it. Got suffering? Make the best of it, if you can. Though, sometimes we might just have to muddle through and hang on before happy feelings return.

My life has often seemed as though it has all been one big dark pit of suffering, and a lot of it I brought on myself by my attitude towards things. But, I didn't know any better. How could I cope if no one I knew had the skills to be an example to me? A good excuse then, but as I  grew into adulthood, opportunities arose that pointed the way.

The person I am today is not who I once was. Somewhere along the way I learned that happiness is not meant to be a permanent condition. What a shock when I found that out! I thought I had missed out on something everyone else had.

Though, truly, it is a good thing we don't have an abundance of joy. We would get bored with it, I think. So, in order to appreciate it, thrill to it, we must be deprived of it, before it fills us to overflowing. (Shades of "My Cup Runneth Over").

It is funny how the littlest things make me happy now, that I never even considered worthy of the title. Plus, just forcing myself to smile makes me feel (a fake) happiness that catches on and becomes real the more I do it. Sounds crazy I know, but I am probably somewhat that, too.

Then, of course, there's Chocolate Happiness! 


~~~
Note: photo of my mother, Genevieve Borden Deane was taken by my sister, Suzan Simpson

Ebb and Flow

"The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even.

Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what it was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread or anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now.

One must accept the security of the winged life, of the ebb and flow, of intermittency."

Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Gift From the Sea

Lost Internet Service

What happened to me last month: I saw a commercial on TV where AT&T said you don't need a home phone in order to have internet service. I believed it and had my phone shut off, only to discover my internet had also been discontinued! LIARS! Okay... misleading advertising!

To make a long story short, after much fussing about (for weeks), and having to go online with my laptop at Starbucks. (bless them!) But, still not the same as being comfortable at home with my cat and computer, I considered an offer by Verizon, my cell provider. They have a way to go online with computer same as when someone is using a droid or iPhone. I signed up and it was a disaster. I couldn't get online in a reasonable amount of time. It was like having dial-up, and whenever I went to the site I moderate, it constantly timed out. 

That was a big eye opener for me. Having cell towers provide the service was not going to work. Thank heavens I was able to discontinue my service within the Verizon "changed my mind" period and got all my money back. To be fair I later learned I was really located out of their area.

So, now I have been forced to sign up for internet service from AT&T. I got the hard sell for their U-Verse TV and cell bundled service. After much run around I finally told one of the many service representatives I spoke with over those weeks that I did not have a TV. So they stopped with the hard sell and now I have a one year contract with AT&T for internet service only. Can't wait until I can get back to my regular, local ISP! I truly miss Cruzio!

Shadows at Dusk

What is life?

It is the flash of a firefly in the night.

It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime.

It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.

~ Crowfoot, Blackfoot warrior and orator

Note: Photo by Elizabeth Munroz, taken at Capitola, California

In Memory of

~

When Death taps us on the shoulder, 

and we cannot run away, 

we encounter a 3D vision of life. 

When we escape the inevitable, 

and return to life, 

it's like a beautiful gift 

wrapped in black ribbon.  

For all the chondrosarcoma patients who passed to the other side, I mourn you and hope you found there the beauty I once saw on a short visit.

For all the chondrosarcoma patients who now have that 3D vision of life, I know you share that new inner knowledge with your loved ones and I hope it enhances everyone you meet.

My biggest wish, my greatest prayer is that soon, SOON, there will be a cure for this very rare type of bone cancer and no more need suffer.

It's Not a Tragedy

This is my granddaughter singing , "Tragedy" 

(a cover for Christina Perri)

Tragedy lyrics
If you could envision
The meaning of a tragedy
Ooooooh
You might be surprised to hear it's you and me
When it comes down to it
You never made the most of it
Ooooooh
So I cry cry cried but now I say goodbye
And I won't be made a fool of
Don't call this love

When did you decide I didn't have enough to buy
Forgive and forget you a thousand times
For the fire and the sleepless nights

And I won't be made a fool of
Don't call this love

Don't call this love

Lalalalala-love Lalalalalala-love
Lalalalala lalalala- love

Why did you feel the need to prove that everybody else was right
No I won't fight

Ohhhh your my Tragedy... Tragedy
You're my Tragedy ooohh
This is ohhh no no no no no

Reminder of a Gift

Treat the earth well: 

it was not given to you by your parents, 

it was loaned to you by your children. 

We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors, 

we borrow it from our Children.

~ Native American Indian Proverb

Decline

My parents never thought about their inevitable aging. Mom always called others in her same age group, “Little Old Ladies, saying she still felt as though she were much younger.

Dad continued working long after retirement, by choice, and last worked in his eighties. His last contract to install electrical wiring in the attic of an old building refurbished for a small church community which he did voluntarily without pay except for reimbursement for necessities.

Mom’s first stay at a nursing home ended when she called 911 because she was constipated and in pain, and the nursing home “would do nothing to help her”. EMT's arrived and took her to the Emergency Room. She received treatment and was returned.

The following Monday, Dad was asked to take her back home. He took care of her himself from that time forward while denying his own frailness another couple of years. Mom was legally blind, having lost 85% of her sight due to Macular Degeneration, getting hard of hearing, incontinent and could no longer walk without assistance. Several times they fell down together as Dad tried to help her get into bed. Due to the fact that their income slightly exceeded the poverty level, they did not qualify for any of the services that would otherwise assist them. They ended up without house or car.

Once the car was gone and Dad’s independence stripped from him, it was painful to know the situation they were in. Because they lived far from other family members, we arranged for them to move to assisted living a few blocks away from their granddaughter. Since she was a nurse she was able to at least keep an eye on them. Dad’s COPD was getting worse and he needed oxygen, but he felt it was important to save money, so he used it as little as possible. At the same time, not using the air conditioning that would have helped protect him from the Southern California smog.

With my older brother in NY, younger one in AZ, my baby sister in TX, and I in northern CA, was heart rending for all of us to watch this demise. Previously, younger brother lived near them and was Dad’s shoulder to lean on. My sister, also living in Southern California at the time, drove up to four hours in order to be there in person to help them out as often as she could tolerate it after putting in a full day’s work. Then cutting her work hours so she could spend more time with them. It seemed miraculous how she did it in her mid-fifties like that. She sacrificed so much in order to care for them.

I felt helpless, but because of my own chronic medical issues, I could do nothing tangible to help out. So the telephone became our bridge. Daily calls for the reports of the day, mostly complaints of the new disappointments that life was bringing them. But, the joint pleasure that sustained them both were their pet Abyssinian cats. I could always depend on being able to bring a chuckle out of Dad, or a giggle out of Mom and help soothe away the troubles they were challenged with daily, simply by asking, “How are the Beau and Boo doing?” Suddenly cute stories of their observations and interpretations of the cat’s behaviors came pouring out. So, being telephone support person, became my way of being there.

Then came the day when my daughter, the nurse, informed us all that “Grandpa has made some mistakes with Grandma’s medicine. And he really is not well enough to care for her anymore.” So the decision to encourage them to move into the nursing home together arose. Of course, my father would have nothing to do with it, until we were able to get him to understand that it would be best for Mom.

To keep them from having broken hearts, I promised to take in their precious cats. The day they moved into the nursing home, my niece put them in her car and drove 400 miles to bring them to me.

Big Brother is Watching

 .

When you wonder how your personal information is being used, don't think it is some kind of cyber stalker or someone who uses computer phishing techniques. It's the government.

Under the Freedom of THE PRIVACY ACT OF 1974 various agencies are allowed to share information about you whereby "Computer Matching" allows cross referencing of information about yourself.

In order to read the document properly in it's enlarged more readable form, left click your mouse one time.

Remember, even if you do not want to have this done, you have no choice. Think about it.

PEACE and POSSIBILITIES

.

May today there be peace within. 

 
May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. 

 
May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. 

 
May you be content with yourself just the way you are.

Let this knowledge settle into your bones.

Allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. 

 
It is there for each and every one of us.

 

 

Note: Photo is of Santa Cruz, California Wharf 

My Granddaughter Performs

Hope you enjoy this kid's vid.